


Cherry

by LadyBookwormWithTeeth



Series: Cherry Verse [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Belts, Bondage, F/M, Food, Forced Orgasm, Leather, Master/Servant, Master/Slave, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Rumbelle - Freeform, Rumbelle Christmas in July, Spanking, Teasing, Voyeurism, cherries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 02:51:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4418285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBookwormWithTeeth/pseuds/LadyBookwormWithTeeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Her Master had promised to make her ass as red as a cheery by the time they were done.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cherry

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the Rumbelle Christmas in July.
> 
> Giftee: onceupona—ohyouknowtherest  
> Prompts: Dark Castle, Fairy Tale, Smut
> 
> Beta: MaddieBonanaFana - she did a real miracle with this one!

A promise had been made, and the Dark One always kept his promises, for better or worse. Belle wasn’t sure if tonight it would be one or another, but excitement burned in her chest either way. Regardless of the outcome, there had been no regrets so far, and though there was a hint of fear making her squirm, it was all part of their game.

The wait was the worse, though Belle suspected it was his favorite part. He did enjoy messing with her head and catching her off guard. Having her lying on the table, firmly secured and unable to see the rest of the room was part of her punishment just as much as what he had planned for her next. To give her a few minutes by herself, letting her twist her neck to try to catch a glimpse of the tools he had brought in earlier, to try to figure out what her Master had in store for her that night, but getting nowhere, was a pleasure for him.

Ever since she had signed over her body to him, he had not been merciful.

And she had not been disappointed.

Tonight, twisting and turning was pointless, not to mention impossible. He had left her garter belt and white stockings on because he appreciated how sensitive it made her skin, which filled her with dread. He had once enchanted a long feather to play with the soles of her feet for nearly an hour, allowing her only a few breaks to catch her breath. And that had been for chipping the china. Tonight, her offense had been much greater.

At least he had tied her legs together and pulled them up, pointing her helpless little feet to the ceiling, out of reach from his fingers – though nothing was ever really out of his reach. Despite the leather bindings being tight on her calves and thighs, and Belle being unable to part her legs, he had pulled them back enough to expose her labia and buttocks to him fully. Then, he secured her body to the table, across her pelvic bone and chest, and cuffed her hands above her head, making sure she could not see what he had materialized on the other side of the dungeon with a snap of his fingers. Though Belle could take a guess.

Her Master had promised to make her ass as red as a cheery by the time they were done.

“You are in trouble, dearie,” he announced, closing the dungeon door behind himself and making her jump. If only she could see what he was doing. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

“Yes, Master,” she agreed, startling again when his fingers touched her back cheeks. A soft touch, examining her more than anything.

“Such smooth skin you have,” he said. “When was the last time I’ve punished you thoroughly?”

Belle thought about it. He was fond of the occasional slap, especially if he thought she wasn’t paying attention. And just one week before he had forbidden her to orgasm for forty eight hours. Did that count? No. That wasn’t nearly as effective. A thorough spanking turned her as docile as a lamb for at least a couple of weeks, just the way he liked her. Playing during those times was pleasurable and uncomplicated; but she’d be lying if she said challenging him and trying his patience wasn’t more fun.

“It’s been a few weeks, Master,” she said, still turning her neck, trying to catch a glimpse of him. But he had placed himself right behind her legs. “At least three, would be my guess-”

“Stop moving and stare at the ceiling.”

The order was given in a low voice, but her eyes snapped up and she kept perfectly still immediately.

“From now on, it is your job to keep count between your punishments, is that understood?”

“Yes, Master,” Belle answered, without ever questioning if she could do it. Her mind was often filled with numbers, from the casual spankings over his knee to the days he denied her any pleasure, and adding more would be complicated, but it didn’t matter. If it was his will, she would obey, and she would do it gladly.

“We wouldn’t want to abuse this delicate skin too much.”

He flattened the palm of his hand against her left cheek.

“You are very soft, dearie,” he said. “And very white. Whatever time it’s been, you healed quite nicely. I bet it doesn’t even hurt anymore, does it?”

“No, Master,” she answered, though the growing arousal made it hard to speak.

“Maybe that’s why you’ve been acting so spoiled.”

He finally came into view, only to give her that stern look that made her cheeks burn with shame. She had fallen short of his expectations, and now she had a long way to prove herself.

Her Master’s hand started teasing her torso, going all the way up to her breast. Belle didn’t move and kept her eyes on the ceiling, just as she was told, pretending that the feeling of his fingers, sharp as claws, was not affecting her.

“It’s little things,” he continued. “The tea is late, the books are not dusted, and you keep touching things that do not belong to you. But I thought the odd smack was enough to keep you in line. Clearly, I was wrong. You need to be reminded of your place in this castle.”

He sat at the head of the table, brushing strands of hair away from her face and touching her cheeks gently.

“What is your place, my dear?”

Her reply was automatic, “I live to serve your will, Master.”

“And do you do so of your own free will?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Yes,” he repeated, with a hint of mockery. “In fact, I recall you _begging_ me to take you away from your uneventful life, and your tiresome betrothed. Because I was the only one who could satisfy your deviancy.”

Despite the situation, she smiled at him. “Conversely, I’m the only one who could satisfy yours.”

Belle had the bad habit of catching him off guard, which usually only added to her punishment, once his head was clear enough to think that is. This time, however, he seemed almost proud of her cheekiness, and ready to plant a kiss on her forehead – if only kissing wasn’t strictly off limits as per his own ruling.

Instead, he slipped both of his hands down her neck and to her nipples. The tips of his fingers were far from satisfying, but moving towards his hands to beg for more was impossible with a leather strap binding her down.

“Tell me your offenses, dearie,” he commanded, as soft as ever.

Belle took in some breath, stealing time to think about it. He didn’t like it when she got the answers to his questions wrong, and thinking was much harder when he was teasing her.

There was the orgasm she had allowed herself to succumb to, without asking for his permission first. Worst part was that he’d have probably let her have it, if only she had asked, but she had been ashamed. Being bent over the long table, wearing nothing but stockings and heels as the Dark One played with her pussy, was a reward for a lovely dinner, and she should be thankful for it. The fact that the Portal Jumper was there, watching from the other side of the table, talking business over with Rumpelstiltskin as if she wasn’t biting on her bottom lip and writhing under his touch, was irrelevant. At the end of the day, she was still her Master’s, no matter who was in the room.

She could have asked to be excused, if the other man’s presence was really that unbearable. But truth was, it wasn’t. It only added to the heat between her legs, to display her servitude so openly. But shame kept her mouth shut. She couldn’t beg for pleasure in front of a stranger. However, holding back was simply no longer an option. So she kept herself really quiet. Her Master was distracted, he wouldn’t notice.

She came suffocating noises and trying not to shake too much.

To her embarrassment, the Portal Jumper was the first to say, “Oh, my…” both shocked and aroused by her discomposure.

Without stopping his ministration, Rumpelstiltskin asked, “Did you just come without my permission, dearie?”

“No, Master,” she answered, without batting an eye.

He giggled manically, amused at her pathetic attempt. “Coming _and_ lying. My my. We need to work on your obedience.”

Belle rested her forehead against the wooden table and didn’t say a word. Apologizing would have been, if not ideal, at least good enough to earn her the right to beg for mercy later. But he kept on stroking her, rubbing her oversensitive clitoris and talking to the Portal Jumper as if nothing had happened.

When he pushed a finger inside, she gave up any last shred of modesty and shrieked, “Oh, Master, please, may I come?” already on the edge of a second orgasm.

When he answered, “No, you’ve had enough for today,” it was already too late to do much more than beg him, “ _PleasepleaseIneeditplease_ ,” and tumble over the edge once again, this time letting out a loud moan that left no doubts about her disobedience.

As he shoved his wet fingers inside her mouth for her to suck them clean, his voice sounded delighted, promising, “Your ass will be as red as a cherry when I am done with you.”

“I had an orgasm without your permission, Master,” Belle counted, eyes on the ceiling, trying to ignore the wetness pooling between her legs again as he played with her nipples. “And I lied to you. And I disobeyed your order not to come a second time.”

“That last one is a very serious offense, dearie,” he said, moving his hands to her collar bone.

“I know, Master.”

“What else?”

Belle swallowed the taste of nothing in her mouth. “I embarrassed myself in front of your friend, Master.”

“Business partner,” he corrected, sounding very bothered by that particular nuance. “But yes. You did. If it’s your choice to stay in the room when you have the option to leave, I expect you to perform perfectly.”

“Yes, Master.”

“You’ll have to show him what a good girl you are the next time. And to any other guests I might have.”

The thought of being on display for a stranger rendered her without words, but she nodded. As far as she was concerned, her Master could set her on that table and fuck her in front of a crowd.

In fact, maybe they should discuss that…

“But not tonight,” he said, taking his hands away and stealing the touch from her skin. “Tonight, we’re making sure you learn your lesson right.”

With a snap of his fingers, a tall glass appeared in his hand, filled with the reddest and most beautiful cherries Belle had ever seen.

“That is quite literal,” she said, before she could hold her tongue.

That got laughter out of him – short lived, but without mockery.

“Open up, dearie,” he said, bringing one to her mouth.

Belle was glad to fill her mouth with the taste of anything that wasn’t nervousness. It was as sweet as she imagined, with no seed for her to spit.

“May I have another one, Master?” she asked, finding the taste to be very soothing.

After three more, she thanked him properly and Rumpelstiltskin got up, taking the glass with him. “I’m glad you didn’t finish them all,” he reprimanded, even though that had barely made a difference in the glass. “I still need these for reference.”

He moved to the other end of the table. Putting the glass aside, he chose one cherry and approached her, saying, “Now, dearie, don’t move.”

Without offering explanations, he placed the cherry on top of her pussy, just where her thighs met, and looked at her.

“Such white skin,” he said. “We have a long way to go, don’t we?”

Before Belle could answer, he bent over and licked her entrance, all the way up to the cherry, and scooped it into his mouth. The high pitched whimper that echoed between the dungeon walls sounded so helpless to her ears already. But it seemed to amuse him as he chewed.

He waited for her breathing to get steady again before saying, “Lets start with ten and see how it looks then. Keep count, and don’t forget to be grateful.”

Belle took a deep breath, bracing herself, and said, “Yes, Master.”

The first slap landed right after. She choked down a scream, more out of shock than pain – he would cause her pain, and he’d relish in it, but her Master always started slowly. The sting on her skin felt familiar, the kind that awakened memories and warmed her chest with anticipation. When she said, “One. Thank you, Master,” the words came to her naturally, and the little tremor in her voice sounded delicious, even to her own ears.

He hit her again (“Two. Thank you, Master.”), increasing the strength. As his hand found her skin, over and over, every time harder, turning the burn into pain, her first reaction was to escape it, but that was pointless. He had secured her to the table in a way that she couldn’t do much more than squirm, and even that had been because he loved to watch her futile attempts of resistance. She was his to punish, and she wasn’t going anywhere.

By the time he delivered the final slap, she yelped helplessly to the dungeon and allowed herself to sigh slowly, before counting, “Ten. Thank you, Master.”

“That put some color on you, dearie,” he snickered, listening to her breathe. His knuckles stroked her heated skin gently, and Belle could tell from that alone that they were far from done. Ideally, her Master wouldn’t be satisfied until the touch of a feather could set her on fire. “Shall we try again?”

Belle heard him take a step back, and then felt the touch of a round little cherry being placed on her again, the same place as before. His fingers didn’t even brush the skin, and Belle found herself craving for the moment he’d lick her clean once again.

“Seems that we still have a long way to go,” he said. To her disappointment, he picked the cherry up with his fingers and shoved it inside his mouth. “Another ten, then.”

Belle felt the muscles of her sex contracting, feeling its emptiness like never before. He hadn’t used her all day, and it didn’t matter that she had treated herself to an orgasm, twice. Her Master knew how to play with her body in a way that made her feel so utterly unsatisfied.

The next time he hit her, the pain was great, but to be touched alone was a pleasure and her words were moaned in delight, “Eleven. Thank you, Master.”

He made it hurt, just enough so she wouldn’t get distracted, just to keep her dancing on that edge between punishment and pleasure, just so she knew this wasn’t for her amusement, without ever letting her forget that she loved every moment of her servitude. He was patient in his ministration, starting off in a quick succession that left her breathless by number fifteen, but taking his time as they neared the end and her voice was getting to a desperate, higher pitch.

He waited for the echoes of her voice to die before demanding, “Well?”

“Twenty,” she breathed, feeling tears slipping through the corners of her eyes. “Thank you, Master.”

“You’re quite forgetful, my dear,” he chastised, reaching for the cherries once again.

“I’m sorry, Master. I won’t forget again.”

“You will. And I can see why.”

He placed the cherry in its place, and slid the tip of his nail down her pussy.

Belle groaned and trembled and dropped the cherry on the floor, but her Master didn’t care. He continued his path down as slowly as he could.

“You are very aroused by this, aren’t you, dearie?”

“I’m sorry, Master,” she said, though that was not exactly sincere. But Rumpelstiltskin was not very mindful of sincerity. She should always tell the truth, and she should always apologize for doing wrong – whether that apology meant “I am truly sorry and I won’t do it again” or “I’m not sorry at all, this is fun, I will do this many, many times”, it didn’t matter. The outcome would be the same.

“No, you’re not – stand still,” he said, sounding very indifferent as he tried to balance another cherry on top of her. “You drop this again, I’ll give you ten more for being clumsy.”

Belle fought the urge to move, just to see if he’d make good on his threat. But the burning on her ass was far from memorable at that point, there would probably be more to come regardless of her obedience, so she lied perfectly quiet.

“Not good enough,” he decided, leaning so close she could feel his warm breath. “And yet, it seems everything I do only makes you wet.” His lips were so close to her now that Belle wanted to push herself up, hoping he might be merciful and eat her out if only she begged enough. “What is to be done about that, dearie? You are here to be punished, and yet, this greedy pussy of yours seems to love every moment of it.” His lips parted slowly and she could feel the scrape of his tongue as he sucked the cherry into his mouth. Such a soft touch, but it took her breath away. He chewed. Swallowed. Spoke again, “I think it’s time we change tactics, dearie. We need something more… efficacious.”

He stood upright. Belle didn’t try to get a glimpse of him, her eyes focused on the dark ceiling as she tried to level her breathing again. Her ears captured the tinkling of metal as he undid the buckle of his belt, and then the whispering of leather as it was pulled through the loops of his trousers.

“Lets try fifteen now.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Forget to count again, and I’ll start over.”

Belle gulped loudly and waited for his belt to strike.

She heard the leather cut through the air and smack against her backside. The sound was deafening, and she wasn’t sure when exactly she started screaming, but she could hear her own voice as well. It wasn’t the first time she tasted his belt, but it had been quite a few weeks since the last time. She had forgotten how much _more_ it felt.

“Twenty one. Thank you, Master.”

“Good?” he asked, almost inaudibly, as if his worry might ruin her illusion.

Rumpelstiltskin didn’t know there was no illusion to maintain. She had found that Beast did not exist as soon as their activities started. If she had thought him unkind and completely uncampable of compassion, she wouldn’t have lied with him.

She smiled to the ceiling and nodded, “Good. _Very_ good.”

“I’m not trying hard enough, it seems.”

Belle laughed. She could imagine the crooked smirk on the corner of his mouth, as he put on a vicious expression for her benefit. The Monster who reveled in the pain of young maidens. Her laughter was cut short when he struck again, sending a jolt of pain through her body.

“Twenty two. Thank you, Master.”

He paused after each blow to listen to her reaction, sometimes a yelp, sometimes a shouted number, and that always gave her time to really feel the burn and collect her thoughts and express her gratitude (“Twenty seven. Thank you, Master.”) with the utmost honesty.

She grabbed the edge of the table, trying to still herself, but he was forceful in his blows and made her whole body tremble each time. The chain that lifted her legs would rattle, she would all but jump from the table, and she would do that pathetic little squirming, pretending that she could get away from the pain. Pretending that she _wanted_ to get away. But she didn’t. The pain was only a reminder of her complete surrender. She was his, and that made her happy.

Number thirty five (“And thank you, Master.”) was met with his silence and she could feel his eyes on her ass, examining her, waiting for her to speak. But Belle could barely breathe, let alone talk. She had forgotten the rush something like that could give her, and how wonderful it was to float in this strange space, too caught up in flames to even think.

“Enough?” he pressed, his voice with that worried edge he adopted so reluctantly.

Her reply was automatic. “Do as you please with me, Master.”

After a moment, she heard his belt drop to the floor and his hesitant steps as he reached for the tall glass of cherries. As before, he placed one on top of her pussy and leaned closer, spending a little extra time watching the color on her ass.

When it came, his voice was sultry, but tentative. “I think we’re getting close, dearie. What do you think?”

Belle concentrated on the pain, trying to compare it with the memory of past punishments.

“My dear?”

“I think you’re right, Master.”

“Maybe I should try something else,” he continued. “I don’t think we’re getting anywhere.”

Belle snickered. “I beg to differ.”

“Oh, I see,” he said, that smirk on his voice as he sucked the little cherry into his mouth and lingered over her pussy. Without warning, his tongue assaulted her entrance, licking deep into her for a fleeting second. “You’re still enjoying yourself a little too much.”

“Yes,” she sighed. “And you’re probably hard.”

This time, her cheekiness earned her another slap, but it was worth it. She couldn’t see his face, but she’d bet anything he was turning red. Besides, that reaction only meant that she was right in her assessment.

“You are an impertinent little one, aren’t you?” he asked, all confidence returning to his voice.

“Yes, Master.”

“I was going to be merciful, dearie. But I don’t see the point now.”

He stepped back again to fetch something from the table.

Over the rumbling of the many tools, he said, “I’ve brought some options, but I think this might be just what we need. Nothing you’re not familiar with, but it’s still something new.”

Belle waited for him to come closer and show it to her, but he didn’t. Instead, she heard him execute a quick movement, as if folding something (another belt?), and say, “Much more sturdy than the one we tried before, and it will definitely sting more.”

Instead of bringing it to her eye level, he touched it to her labia, rubbing it up and down her trimmed, wet curls. Leather. It did feel more sturdy. And broader than his belt, at least twice as much.

“Or maybe it’s not the tool. Maybe I’m just focusing on the wrong part of your body.”

Without warning, he brought the leather strap down on her sex, not too hard, but with enough strength to make her cry out. Her Master had never hit her anywhere but her ass and thighs before, and this felt much more sensitive. Belle felt like he would have her in tears and pleading for his mercy in less ten strokes, if that was what he really wanted.

The leather rubbed her pussy again, easing the pain.

“Did that hurt, my dear?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Good. We should do that some other time. But I’ve made you a promise, and I always keep my promises. Besides,” the strap slipped to her cheek to stroke a sensitive patch of red skin, “we are so close now. Fifteen more must be enough.”

Belle considered the feeling of the leather, trying to anticipate the pain. It wouldn’t be as easy to take, but she was not one to cower before a challenge.

“Keep counting, dearie.”

“Yes, Master.”

She waited.

After a moment, he added, “Ask me when you’re ready. And don’t forget to be polite.”

“Please, Master, may I get another one?”

He didn’t hold back this time. The strap cut through the air and smacked against both of her cheeks at once, hitting quite a large portion of sore skin. It brought tears to her eyes immediately.

“Thirty six,” she said, in a cautious whisper. “Thank you, Master.”

She waited for the sting to fade before asking, “May I please have another one?”

He obliged without hesitation.

Belle tried not to be too loud, but it was impossible. Each blow seemed to set her on fire, dropping fresh tears from her eyes and making her twist in her handcuffs, hoping that holding on to the table would keep her steady and strong.

And yet, she could feel her wetness dripping down her pussy. There would very likely be a puddle on the table when she was finally set free, evidence of an arousal that refused to die. No matter how much it hurt, she asked for more each time, a dutiful little slave as much as a woman starving for pain.

Towards the end, it wasn’t easy, with the sweat clinging to her skin and her whole body unpleasantly warm, but she counted on, sometimes in desperate whispers that were on the verge of giving up, sometimes in rushed screams that put numbers and words and pleads together so fast her Master had to pause on his own to make sure she wouldn’t hurt herself.

When she hit, “Fifty. Thank you, Master,” her voice was husky and exhausted, and there was a sob clawing at her throat, trying to break free, but she still added, “May I have another one?”

“It’s enough for now, my dear,” he whispered, putting the leather strap down, but never stepping away from her. “I think you’ve had enough.”

Belle wanted to say thank you once again, but the sob in her throat escaped through her gritted teeth, followed by another, and another.

Her Master caressed up her thighs, stroking white, uninjured skin, saying, “It’s alright, my dear, you did well.”

There was a time when she tried to hold back from crying, thinking he might despise her for it. But she soon found out that crying filled her with much needed relief, just as much as the gentleness from his hands once punishment was over. As the pain started to go quiet, becoming part of her and ready to be a much needed companion for the following weeks, she gave in to his touch, and sobbed openly to the ceiling. They were part of the same thing, mutually comforting and good, each in their own way.

As she calmed down, he said, “Lets see how you did.” And there came the cherry again. This time, she was shaking too much and he had to hold it in place. “I think that’s very good for a first try, my dear.”

The compliment made her smile. “You mean I can do better, Master?”

The back of his fingers stroked her left cheek and she recoiled as the touch ignited her wounds.

“Always,” he said. “But I believe this is enough for tonight.”

He bent over to eat the cherry, but lingered on top of her, one hand teasing her red skin. Then, his tongue dipped between her lips and found the right spot to lap at. Belle moaned and fought against the straps that held her down, wanting to arch her back and lean into his touch, but remaining helplessly bound to the table.

“Master, please,” she sobbed. “I need… I need…”

She didn’t want to ask again. He was going to say no. He was going to snicker at her and step back and say, “I told you that you’ve already had enough for tonight. Haven’t you learned your lesson?”

But he was lapping at her clitoris slowly, taking his time and doing exactly what he knew would bring her to the edge faster, one hand still holding on to the sensitive skin, never letting her forget the pain she had asked him to cause her.

“I need it, Master,” she begged, in that desperate voice that wanted so badly to be tipped over the edge a third time. “Please, please, just once, please-”

“What do you need, my dear?” he asked, lifting his head just enough to speak.

 _Love me_ , she wanted to say. But she was not allowed to ask for that. Along with kisses, it was one of his few limits.

She settled for the next best thing.

“Fuck me,” she hissed. “ _Use_ me.”

Belle felt him sigh with something that resembled relief, as if he had expected her to ask to be excused and retire to her bedroom for the rest of the week, leaving him hard and alone.

He quickly stood upright and unbuttoned his pants. But as the tip of his cock touched her, she said, “Untie me, please, I want to see you.”

Rumpelstiltskin hesitated. She thought he might just say, “Not tonight,” and plunge into her. She wouldn’t complain, to be honest. Instead, he decided to snap his fingers and set her legs free. They plopped down sore and clumsy, but he caught them and arranged them around his waist.

“I’ve got you, dear,” he whispered, as he penetrated her slowly. “I’ve got you.”

Belle pulled at her handcuffs, wanting to be completely free, just so she could wrap herself around his body, but soon all coherent thoughts were gone and the fact that she was still bound down didn’t matter. It was just the way he liked to fuck her, pushing deep into her, but keeping her at arms length, and never looking into her eyes, no matter how many times she pleaded, “Look at me, please, I want to see you.”

He moved slow, trying to muffle down any sounds of pleasure, but clearly savoring each thrust. He had been waiting for this all day. He probably wanted to have her in front of the Portal Jumper, bent over the dinner table. Belle hadn’t pleased him since the night before and he could be just as greedy as her.

She locked her ankles behind his back and pulled him closer, feeling her muscles complain from the physical effort, but she didn’t mind.

“I want to make you come,” she whispered at him.

Rumpelstiltskin didn’t answer, but he moved faster in and out of her, still avoiding her eyes, still stubbornly hovering a few feet above her instead of resting on top of her torso.

Belle tightened the embrace of her legs and clenched her muscles, drawing a whimper out of him.

“My dear,” he sighed, emphasizing the possessive. “ _My_ beauty.”

“Yours,” she agreed, raising her head up the best she could, pretending she could kiss him. “All yours.”

“Come for me, my beauty,” he ordered, and, as it was with any other command, she obeyed him, giving in to pleasure without a second thought.

He followed as soon as she was done, strangling down a cry and plunging into her violently. In the aftermath of her own orgasm, Belle didn’t notice his body go limp, nor that he carefully lowered himself on top of her breasts, more because he had no strength to move than because he was desperate for her touch. He mumbled something. It might have been “thank you”, but she couldn’t hear it.

“What did you say, Master?”

“Nothing,” he answered, hurriedly, squirming on top of her, trying to pull himself together.

She still had him secured between her thighs, though.

“Thank you, Master,” she said, sounding very dutiful.

“Yes, well,” he said, caught off guard by the unexpected proximity. Ideally, he’d come inside of her and step back to collect his own thoughts away from her distracting touch. Taking pity on his awkwardness, she spread her legs to let him go. “I hope you learned your lesson.”

Belle snickered. “Oh, I don’t know. I guess we’ll see tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve had a lot of fun writing this fic and participating in the RCIJ, my very first ever! Usually, I’m very insecure about my writing and I second guess every step of the way, until my beta has reassured me that, no, I don’t suck, the fic is fine, a million times. But this particular piece, surprisingly, was very natural to write and I loved every bit of it. I hope you guys enjoyed it, and most of all, I hope my onceupona—ohyouknowtherest enjoyed it. She was a great giftee who put up with several invasive questions and helped me make this story what it is right now. It was great to visit her every week and I highly recommend you check her blog out for all things Robert Carlyle and Rumbelle related.
> 
> See you guys for the Rumbelle Christmas in Actual Christmas!


End file.
